The Crow and the Butterfly
by Aqueducts
Summary: A remade version of a story I wrote a long time ago, removed, edited, and decided to repost. Probably disturbing.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One.

_"Get away from me!" Hermione screamed as she was running up the grand staircase of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Tears streamed down her face, soaking into her hair and robes. She didn't care. All she wanted was to get as far away as she could from the boy who desperately followed after her._

_"Hermione, wait!" Draco Malfoy shouted, stumbling up the stairs after her. His face burned bright red from the physical exertion, and his breathing was heavy, not only because he was running, but also out of fear. "Please, just let me explain!"_

_As Hermione was about to reach the portrait blocking Gryffindor commons, she stopped short. After a beat, she turned and faced him. In an instant, her wand was drawn, trained on his throat. The look in her eyes was deadly. "Explain what, exactly, Draco? You have betrayed me."_

_He reached out to try to comfort her, but she shoved his hand away. "Don't touch me! Don't even look at me! I gave you everything, Draco Malfoy. You were my life. You're just like the rest of them. PIGGLE PUFF!" she shouted at the fat lady, who moved at an alarming speed in order to avoid being torn off the wall. The girl turned to leave, but was stopped by a hand grabbing hers. Draco pulled her toward him and into a kiss. It was soft and sad. He pulled away and looked her face over, pleading with his eyes._

_"Hermione…" he said gently, tears forming in the perfectly blue eyes she had fallen for. "You know that I would never want to hurt you this way… I love you."_

_"Too late, Malfoy.."_

_And with that, she turned and left._

* * *

><p>"We've got another one, Master," a wizard in a black hood said, dragging a young woman by the back of her robes. Her hands were bound together behind her back, and she was sobbing uncontrollably. "SHUT UP!" The man shouted. He pointed his wand at her and whispered something. Immediately, the girl screamed in agony. Her face contorted into an unimaginable look of pain and suffering, and he let her fall, her head making a sickening cracking noise on the marble floor. She struggled to remain conscious as darkness closed in on her, surrounding her and diminishing her once-indominable spirit.<p>

"Name's Granger. Gryffindor house, muggle-born... Top of her class in all subjects. In close relation with the Potter boy," the man relayed to a person Hermione could not see. "Harry..." she sobbed. "Harry, I'm so sorry..."

_"I said be quiet, you worthless wretch!"_ the hooded wizard boomed, striking her across the face. She felt a semi-healed wound tear open, more of her blood spilling onto the well-polished floor.

She felt a hand rest on her soft brown curls. Her first instinct was fear, and she struggled through her pain to get away. She screamed, although sound no longer escaped her. She kicked, trying to get away, and felt something strike her, hard, in the side. Her body tried to gasp, but her lungs would not draw breath. She began to feel dizzy, and the line between reality and fiction was beginning to blur. As she drifted away into the dark, she heard a man's voice, raspy and weak as though he was dying of thirst. A nearly-inaudible sound that sent a horrible chill through her dying senses.

_"She lives."_


	2. Chapter 2

_Hermione ran into Gryffindor common room, the portrait hole closing behind her. She fell down onto the carpet, weeping uncontrollably. He lied... He lied to her, and now she was going to die. Her sadness was replaced by panic. Immediately she sat up, looking around as though they would come here and take her away... She had to go, and soon. In an instant, she was on her feet, sprinting up the staircase to the girls' dormitory. She packed the trunk at the foot of her bed with only what she needed, discarding the rest into the fire. Her wand, casual robes, muggle clothes, and collection of ingredients from Potions class all were thrown into the trunk haphazardly; there was no time for organization. The fireplace reflected in her teary, red eyes as she tossed all her school books, uniform robes, homework assignments, and anything else that might give her away. She scraped the bottom of the trunk to make sure she didn't miss anything. Her hand came upon two photographs. _

_The first was of Harry, Ron, and herself their first year, six years ago. The three eleven-year olds grinned and waved at her in a goofy manner. They were seated at dinner in the Great Hall, and the enchanted ceiling depicted a setting sun. Occasionally, tiny versions of Fred and George Weasley would reach over and try to insert spoonfulls of mashed potatoes into the ears of their younger brother, who slapped their hands away, and yelled something which was obviously, "OY! GET OFF!" Hermione felt a lump forming in her throat as she went to toss the picture. Her hand shook as the photo hovered over the flames that clawed and stretched to engulf her happy memory. At the last second, she pulled away, tucking the photograph safely into the inside pocket of her plain street robes._

_The second photo got no more than a second glance. It was she and Draco Malfoy at the Yule ball last year. The young couple stood underneath a small sprig of mistletoe, and kissed, smiling and laughing at the camera. It was their first kiss, the night that changed her forever. As the girl in the photo rested her head on the boy's shoulder and sighed contentedly, the girl by the fireplace tore them apart and tossed Draco's half into the fire. She looked at herself, a happy, innocent sweet-sixteen. She shook her head before throwing herself to the inferno. "Don't get too attached. Someday, he'll break your heart."_

The dream ripped and clawed at her heart. It reached down to her very core and sought out her weak spot until she was reduced to nothing, until she wanted nothing except death. The horrible memory of her love's betrayal, the fact that she still loved him making it all the worse. She couldn't stand reliving the past. Every time she thought about it, her hope was almost completely crushed. It happened almost every night.

She wanted to open her eyes, but fear and the returning pain made her cringe back into the fetal position at once. Where was she? How long had she been there? Eventually, curiosity got the best of her and she forced her eyes to open. There was nothing to see. It was dark, but as she slowly regained consciousness, she began to hear sounds. Sobs, snores, breathing. Life. They were close, too. She reached for her wand, but realized it must've been taken before she'd been dumped here. When she touched the place where her wand had been, a jolt of pain shot through her entire body. She screamed, and and she heard at least fifty bodies jerk into animation around her.

"Hey, what's your problem!" the witch beside her shouted. "We're trying to sleep!"

Hermione blinked, stunned. "Uh... I'm sorry... I just... I think something's broken and I can't..."

"Just suck it up. If you cry, you'll be the next to go."

"I-I'm sorry... I didn't m-mean to..." She couldn't help it. The dam keeping her sorrow back was obliterated, and the tears cascaded down her bloody, bruised cheeks like Niagra Falls. "They'll die... They'll die because of me... And I'll die too... I'm so sorry!"

The witch seemed to soften. "Look, I know it's scary, and I know it hurts. But wounds will heal. We'll get out of here in due time. Trust me. One way or another, you won't have to live like this very long. I promise."

Hermione somehow felt the need to trust this woman. She had a voice that was wise, and full of concern, yet firm and unyielding. She was strong. Hermione knew that she needed this woman, that she trusted her, because there was no one else to rely on. As she considered these thoughts, bright lights sprang to life overhead. The room groaned and swore collectively, all rising to their feet. The witch who had spoken to her was among them. She stood, tall and willowy, but with a determination in her face. She was pale, with long, red hair that cascaded down her back. Her eyes were a curious blue, almost violet. Her face was soft, but determined, and a scar ran from her right temple to under her cheekbone. She was beautiful.

"Stand up," she whispered. "The ones who can't stand can't work, and they'll be killed before breakfast." She offered a hand, and Hermione took it gratefully. She winced as she stood, the pain of three broken ribs almost crippling her. Only the threat of death was keeping her upright. As Hermione looked at the girl more closely, she realized that she was not a woman, but a girl, about 18, a little younger than Hermione was. As she looked around, Hermione realized that the tiny room was filled with young girls, all of them no older than 25.

There was a cracking sound that echoed in the confined space, and all attention was shifted to the front of the room. Hermione couldn't see who had apparated into their prescence, but a magically magnified voice rang out to them. The voice was that of a young man, most likely around twenty years old, but it was a hard, sharp voice that could have made even Minerva McGonagall cringe.

"Good morning, ladies," he said, and although his voice carried a definite charisma, it had no intonation of warmth to indicate that he sincerely wished them well. "Today, we will be starting with morning games. The winners will have breakfast. Then, you will be assigned your daily work. You know what to do."

The man disapparated, and Hermione looked around, waiting for something to happen. She leaned over to the redheaded girl and said, "I don't know what to do!"

The girl smiled weakly. "By games, he means that we'll be competing for our lives. The girls with the most strength, endurance, and magical ability stay alive and work. The others..." She sighed. A chill went down Hermione's spine. 'Oh no...' she thought.

"So the girls who do get to stay... What happens after they're done working?" Hermione asked.

The girl laughed hollowly. "Nothing happens. We go to bed and then the next day it repeats all over again." A thoughtful look crossed her face. "Well, actually... Sometimes, if a witch shows enough skill, she might be asked to join the Army. It's happened once before. She was such a pretty girl, and had such great talent. She could perform any spell without a wand, and without speaking. She took out three Death Eaters trying to escape... She was finally put under control after she almost killed Blaise Zabini... She was apprehended as she was crossing over the borderline of the camp." Hermione's heart skipped a beat. Zabini was here? He couldn't be here. She held her tongue and continued to listen.

"And then?" Hermione asked.

"Then, she was taken straight to You-Know-Who. Rather than destroy her, he decided she would be an asset. He tortured her when she wouldn't cooperate, locked her up, starved her, whatever it took, until eventually she just accepted the Death Eaters' ways. She became one of them, and joined the Army to fight for him."

"What happened to her?"

"She died." The girl blinked, took a deep breath, and looked up. "Six months ago, she died. Went into battle, and never came back."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but she was interrupted by a foghorn blasting. The room began to shake, and she looked around frantically. A wall was disappearing into the ground. They were met by a blast of wind, and an ominous darkness. The girls filed out of their prison and into the void, preparing once again to fight for their lives.


	3. Chapter 3

_Time was running short as Hermione stumbled down the stairs from the girls' dorms, her trunk following close behind. She ran up the stairs to the boys' dormitory, taking them two at a time, and wrenched Harry's trunk open. She rifled through it, tossing his things in every direction. She finally came upon what she was looking for, his Invisibility Cloak. She grabbed the cloak and threw it over her trunk, which had made its way up the stairs after her. "Sorry Harry," she muttered. She lifted the cloak and climbed beneath it, onto her trunk, and levitated herself down the stairs and out of the common room. She floated down the huge staircase, and past the house points... Gryffindor was in the lead. She pointed her wand at the huge wooden front doors, and they flew open. As she was about to leave Hogwarts forever, Hermione couldn't help taking one last look. It was her home, and it would always be home to her. The place that had led her to her best friends, her first love, and everyone who mattered. She took a deep breath, stepped out from under the cloak, leaving it over her trunk, which continued to follow her. She didn't need the invisibility; they couldn't be looking for her yet. Hogwarts would most likely be hit last, because most of the students were underage and didn't know enough magic to put up a fight._

_As she made her way past the lake, Hermione had the creeping suspicion that she was being followed. She turned and looked around, but saw nothing. She kept walking forward, but looked behind her every few seconds. Once, she must have looked too long, because she ran straight into Draco Malfoy. Hermione let an involuntary yelp escape her and stumbled backward, her wand pointed at his throat. "One step and you die, Malfoy, I swear it!"_

_Draco just looked at her. When she was sure that there was no wand in his hand, her eyes moved to his face. He didn't speak, just looked at her with a melancholy expression._

_"What do you want from me, Draco?" Hermione asked, her heart pounding. Her wand hand shook, and even if he were to try to come toward her, she wasn't sure she could make an accurate shot._

_"Hermione..." Draco whispered, almost too quietly for her to hear. He shuddered, and dropped to the ground. "I'm so sorry... I didn't want to..."_

_Hermione hesitated a moment, and then tentatively stepped toward him. She knelt down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "I know you didn't want to... I'm sorry it has to be this way, but I have to leave. Just let me go, Draco." She stood, and began to walk away from him._

_"No," she heard his voice say. She turned and saw him getting up. "You can't leave. I won't let you. Don't leave, Hermione. I'll fight them, I'll protect you."_

_"I have to, Draco. It's not safe anymore. If they find me, I'll be killed. It isn't safe to be muggle-born anymore. And I can't trust you anymore, Draco... You're one of them. You always will be." She turned yet again and continued her trek across the grounds._

_"Well, then I don't have a choice."_

_Hermione turned in time to see Draco draw his wand. "EXPELLIARMUS!" Hermione screamed, hitting Draco in the wand hand. His wand flew several feet behind him, and she took off running toward the Forbidden Forest. Draco scrambled to find his wand, which took several seconds, and then Hermione felt a spell fly past her left ear. She turned, still running, and shouted "Avis," the first spell that came to mind. A flock of birds shot out of the tip of her wand at Draco, bombarding him from all directions._

_"IMPEDIMENTA!" Draco shouted. The spell hit Hermione and she felt herself slowing down. It was as if her legs were made of lead, and she couldn't run anymore. "Finite Incantatum!" Hermione shouted. Immediately, the birds disappeared, and she was able to run again. She sprinted, casting another charm to ensure her trunk still followed._

_Draco followed, and although she had put quite a distance between them, he was gaining. "Carpe Retractum!" Draco yelled. Ropes shot out of the tip of his wand and twined around Hermione's wrists and middle, pulling her toward him. She screamed as she was dragged back across the grounds, coming to a halt in front of Draco. "Draco," she hissed. "Let me go, before I have to hurt you."_

_"Hermione... Please just hear me out. You can't go, you'll die out there... They're all going to be looking for you. If you stay with me, I'll protect you, I promise... I love you, more than anyone, or anything. I've never cared so much about someone. Don't do this to me, I can't live without you." The ropes released her, but she did not move. Draco softly touched her cheek and studied her face, pleading with his eyes. He leaned in and kissed her slowly, gently. His hands found her hips, and he pulled her against him. She felt herself put her arms around his neck, holding on tight. His hands slid up and into her hair, and for a moment, she forgot about where she was, and why she was running. All she wanted was to stay here with Draco, forever._

_Her breath caught, and she felt tears spring to her eyes. She couldn't stay. She couldn't do this, and she knew it. He would give her away, she would die. He was a Death Eater now. Hermione pushed Draco away from her, stepping backward. Her expression was cold, and her face remained hard. "Don't come near me, or I'll kill you."_

_"Hermione-"_

_"Don't come any closer Draco, I'm warning you!"_

_"Please just-"_

_"DON'T!"_

_Draco took a step toward her. "Hermione, I-"_

_"SECTUMSEMPRA!"_

_Draco's screams rang out, from the lake, to the castle, to the forest. The pain of the curse, mixed with the pain of losing her reverberated for miles. Hermione stood, frozen in shock over what she had done. Draco's blood was everywhere, splattered in all directions like scarlet paint on a soft green canvas. He fell to the ground, crying in agony. Hermione turned and sprinted toward the forest. She had to get away. "Hermione..." Draco whispered, barely audible as he began to lose consciousness. "I love you."_

* * *

><p>Hermione walked in line with all the other young women, keeping the red-haired girl she had been speaking with in her sight. The man at the front of the crowd was counting off the girls into groups of ten. When she got up to the front, she recognized him.<p>

"Blaise Zabini..." She muttered. He looked at her, no recognition in his eyes. "Seven-" he continued to count, pushing her over to a group of girls, which contained the redhead. She stood by her. "I know him," Hermione said, "We went to school together. Why doesn't he remember me?"

"I'm sure he does, sweetheart, I'm sure he does... But to them, you're an object now. A thing to be discarded as seen fit. You're no longer someone." She shook her head. "I'm Rosalie Dubois, by the way."

"Hermione Granger," Hermione replied, attempting a smile, but failing miserably. Blaise wasn't just someone she had seen around school, someone she'd never known. They were friends. She helped him with his Transfiguration an hour a day after school, and they had gotten along well. He had even asked her out once, although it had never really come to more than one kiss outside of Honeydukes one fall afternoon back in fifth year. Hermione couldn't believe it. Several months previously, Blaise's mother had pulled him out of Hogwarts under mysterious circumstances. They had promised to keep in touch, but the contact had dwindled to nothing in a matter of weeks... And now she understood why.

"What will happen now?" Hermione asked Rosalie.

"Now, they set a test for us. The winners live. The others..." She shuddered. "I don't want to talk about it. Just don't lose."

'Comforting,' Hermione thought. She looked around and saw a man walking toward them. He stopped and looked past them, as if they did not exist.

"Your task today," he said through his magically magnified voice, "is to find the hay in the needlestack."

At first, Hermione wasn't sure what he was talking about. Surely he couldn't mean...

And then she saw it. A huge pile of needles, ten feet tall, stood before them. Hermione felt her stomach drop. 'Oh no... Oh NO. Impossible...'

"It can't be like it sounds?" Hermione asked Rosalie, looking frantically at the mountain of metal.

"Oh, it's EXACTLY like it sounds."

The man held up a hand straight in the air. He blew a whistle and brought it down, indicating a start. At once, all the girls in the group ran toward the stack of needles, frantically searching for anything that wasn't sharp and glistening. All the women's hands were bleeding, making it even harder to concentrate on their task. Ten minutes passed, then fifteen... Hermione looked down at her mutilated hands. It was impossible. She couldn't handle it. She would die, and she knew it.

Then, out of nowhere, she felt her hand move. She jumped, as she realized that she was not the one moving it. Hermione had no control whatsoever over her hand, or over her body. 'Oh my god, what's happening?' Hermione thought, her heart practically pounding out of her chest. Her hand raised slowly, then suddenly plunged into the pile of needles. She wanted to cry, scream, do SOMETHING, but her body was not in her control. She felt her hand coming back out, and when she looked at it, she realized that it was clenched. It turned, palm-up, to reveal a small, golden piece of straw. Hermione shrieked in happiness, and realized her body was hers again.

"I FOUND IT!" She screamed, holding the shred of hay in the air triumphantly, waving it around like she'd just found the Holy Grail. The man blew the whistle again. All the other girls stopped searching. Some screamed in dispair, others burst into tears, and still others remained stoic. Rosalie looked at Hermione with a blank expression. "Félicitations..." She murmered, then she turned and walked away with the others. Hermione saw them walk into an all-cement building, the door closing behind them.

In all Hermione's life, a victory never had been, and never would be, so bittersweet. She had won and gotten away with her life, but she had sent nine innocent girls to who-knows-where. As she walked away with the survivors, straw in hand, all she knew was that she would never, ever forget the sound of the screams that even a cement wall could not muffle.


	4. Chapter 4

_The months following her escape were a blur. Hermione had long since removed her memories of Draco and placed them in a sort of makeshift pensive, which in truth was simply an empty flask that had once contained whiskey. She knew of their existence, but nothing of details, which was something she couldn't be troubled with anyhow. Her life focused on survival alone, and she couldn't be hindered by anything extraneous that might put her in danger. But sometimes, danger followed her._

_She was running low on food, and things she found lying around could only keep her going for so long. She felt herself being weighed down by the trunk full of the things she took from her Hogwarts dormitory. She decided to return to her hometown in England to check on her parents, and seek a temporary refuge. She hadn't given them any sign she was coming, for fear that the message would be intercepted. Although neither of them had any idea where she was, since they weren't allowed any contact with the wizarding world, she knew they must be worried about her safety._

_Seeing as the apparitions of all wizards were being monitored, she had to settle for flying on a broom, which she had learned shortly after fleeing Hogwarts. She still wasn't fond of the feeling, but it discreetly got her where she needed to go. Far later than was necessary, she arrived near her childhood home. She donned her Muggle attire and tossed the invisibility cloak over her things, which she would come back for once the coast was clear. She cautiously moved across the yard and to the front door, wand in hand, and knocked three times. After a moment, a small, bushy-haired woman answered the door. She studied Hermione for a moment, then recognition sprang to her eyes, accompanied by a long-retained tears._

_"Mum, it's ok," Hermione said, smiling. It was an unfamiliar position for her face, and it probably came off as very forced and awkward._

_"You have to leave. You don't belong here," her mother said, her face emotionless._

_"Mum? What do you mean? Why -"_

_"You can't be here. Go back to where you came from."_

_Her mother shut the door, and Hermione heard the deadbolt lock slide into place. Speechless, Hermione stood for a moment, then turned around and gathered her things. _

_Mrs. Granger counted the seconds in her head. Slowly, evenly, focusing on the numbers. When five minutes had passed, she, very carefully, peered out through the window, looking up and down the street. There was no sign of Hermione. No sign of her only daughter. She collapsed onto the floor, her sorrow finally tearing down the wall she had built up. The noise of her sobs echoed through the empty halls of the once-cheery home. She was alone. They had already taken her husband. If she didn't tell them Hermione had shown up, and they found out... She shuddered to think at what would happen._

_It was a decision she hated to make, but she had to make it... Her life? Or her daughter's?  
><em>

* * *

><p>Hermione quickly learned that here, (wherever "here" was) it was not advisable to make friends, because the next day, one of you would probably be dead.<p>

There were only two pairs of long-standing friends that remained. Two of them were twins, Parvati and Padma Patil, who came in a few days after Hermione, and who Hermione, for her own safety, pretended not to notice. She figured they wouldn't last long; neither of them was a terribly good witch. She didn't want to put her time and effort into something that would just fall apart.

The second set of friends in the camp were an odd pair. They arrived before Hermione, and she gathered that they had lasted an unusually long time. In every way, Gloriana and Helena were opposites. Gloriana was tall, athletic, and chocolate-skinned, with high cheekbones, a strong frame, and long, spiraling dark curls. Helena was tiny, slender, and fair. She had a round face, large, crystal blue eyes, and long, platinum hair. The two had met in the camp, and had formed a sort of team. Neither would triumph at the expense of the other. They did what they had to to keep each other safe. It was an unspoken agreement, and any who opposed them would be brought down; they always were.

After another restless night, with the same awful nightmares, Hermione woke with an inexplicable feeling of dread. As the harsh overhead lights snapped on, and all the girls hauled themselves off the hard, uncomfortable floor, she stood to attention and waiting for what she could sense was going to be bad news. Today would not be a typical day of a competition, one meal, and working to build equipment for the Army. She could feel it.

"Good morning, ladies."

It was a different man today. A different voice. What happened to the usual voice that she had grown used to?

"You all know what to do."

They filed outside and were sorted into groups of five. Then, the second strange event of the morning occurred. Gloriana and Helena were in the same group. This never happened. They always made sure that they were separate, because they wouldn't compete against each other. But today, they seemed to know something; like Hermione, they seemed to know that today was going to be different. They intentionally ended up in the same group together.

"Today," said the man's voice, the owner of which Hermione still could not see, "you will be fighting one another. The survivor... Well... Survives. Plain and simple."

Hermione looked in horror at the other girls in her group. No wands? No magic? Just... Strength, which she didn't have much of. The sound of a whistle, and the whole place went to hell. Immediately, Hermione felt a fist crack against her jaw. She fell to the ground, stunned. There was no hesitation from her opponents. They were at each other's throats in an instant, desperately trying to save themselves. Hermione had no strategy, and no way to win. She simply stayed out of the way and waited for them to wear each other down.

For a moment, Gloriana and Helena caught Hermione's eye. They were standing back to back in the middle of the other three girls in their section, concentrating on something, but what, Hermione couldn't tell.

WHAM.

A blow to the back of the head brought Hermione back to her own fight. There was one girl left standing. She was taller than Hermione by about six inches with a crazed look in her eyes, and in all honesty, Hermione knew she didn't stand a chance. The blow to the head had knocked her on all fours, and she rolled out of the way just in time to avoid having her skull stomped in. Out of nowhere, she felt her leg being pulled. She shrieked, thinking the girl had taken hold of her, but was shocked to feel her foot collide, hard, with the other girl's knee. She fell to the ground, crippled, and Hermione stood and knocked her down, pinning her by the throat with her foot. Her whole body shook as she gathered the will power to murder an innocent girl. She couldn't. How could she?

She didn't have to.

At that moment, green fire erupted from somewhere to her left. She whipped around, stunned at seeing magic for the first time since her capture. Immediately, the three girls surrounding Gloriana and Helena fell to the ground, along with several other girls and a guard. Everyone stood silent for a moment, and then there was chaos. All Hell broke loose as girls ran screaming in every direction, while the men with wands sprang into action, throwing any curse they could think of at the pair of women. Without a word, they flung counterjinxes and ran straight for the front gates. Anything between them and freedom was destroyed, including the walls that kept them in for so long. When they reached the concrete gates, they shattered like they were made of glass. The witches took off running, and when they were far enough to escape the magical block, they apparated into thin air and were gone.

Hermione seized her chance. While the attention was on the escapees, all hell was breaking loose; women were running, screaming, fighting. Hermione made a break for it. She ran toward the hole that they left, pushing herself with all her strength. But she was weak. Malnutrition and lack of sleep had taken their toll on her, and she felt herself slowing down. As she passed the workhouse, a hand covered her mouth and she was pulled behind a wall, into the shadows.

"A word, and you die, Granger."


End file.
